#and my brain ends up focusing most of my feelings of resentment on the fandom

[arielxlazarus]

.

#anyone else ever have their dislike for a fandom change to hate because a writer they love switched to writing for it? #or is that just my pathetic ass? #it's not that i begrudge them for writing what they love #and i'd never ever dream of saying anything to them about it or trying to guilt them #but it really fucking sucks #you go from loving their stuff for a fandom you enjoy and devouring every bit of it #to them writing for a fandom you can't stand and abandoning all their wips for the old fandom you still love #it's so selfish to get angry and upset over it #but i can't help myself #don't mind me i just wanna vent #i'll probably regret this later and delete it #i'm just all sad and bitter and stupid #and my brain ends up focusing most of my feelings of resentment on the fandom #for 'stealing' that writer away #even though i know that's not how it works

[wei-gege-oldaccount]

lwj and wwx only have 2 settings when looking at each other, they are either stupidly in love or stupidly horny. have you seen this post? kenny2234*tumblr*com/post/629515661032521728

Hi Anon!

Firstly, yes I have seen your post, and secondly you never asked for this and I am sorry for that.

I could write about their eye contact alone until the end of time, or at least until I succumb to the laws of entropy. I could just idly agree with you, yes, aha it’s love or lust and move on. But. I can’t. I can’t. I mean, this is a story where so much is told by the things that are not said. And there is a lot that can’t be said, either because it’s a character trait or because of censorship issues. I will try and keep this concise, and to do that I’m just focusing on mutual eye contact, and from LWJ’s perspective. Thinking to the BTS where Wang Yibo talks about how LWJ mostly only expresses himself through the eyes.

TL;DR: I disagree, there’s really more to it than that.

LWJ actively avoids eye contact with WWX until around episodes 6-7. He’s a Lan. He can NOT condone or make friends with this unruly, loud, arrogant, charismatic, irritatingly beautiful man. He has bad ideas about the uses of resentful energy. No matter how intelligent, observant and artistic he is. No matter now much of a prodigy and a skilled fighter he is. No matter how hot he is. No matter what his brother says.

He likes him but he doesn’t like that he likes him.

So LWJ actively avoids direct eye contact with WWX unless it’s a glare filled with the fire of a thousand suns. You know, as a warning.

This is until episode 6/7. By this point, they have fought water ghouls at Biling Lake. Drunkenly shared personal mom info. Used the Lan forehead ribbon inappropriately in the Cold Pond Cave, and had Physical Contact when escaping. WWX has called LWJ his Zhiji already. It’s only when WWX keeps his promise not to talk about the Yin Iron and scares NHS away when he tries to extract gossip that LWJ decides to reappraise him. Only then do we get some eye contact which isn’t laced with contempt or uneasiness (which of course JC is there to witness).

They go off and do the lantern ceremony. LWJ does a smile at WWX’s bunny art. That devastating look he gives WWX as he makes his vow. You can almost lipread LWJ’s brain thinking “marry me now”. LXC was right about him. Despite this, he tries to deal with the yin iron by himself because WWX is The Agent of Chaos after all. But, WWX is not going to let him bear this responsibility alone, because of course he wouldn’t. 

Enter Battle Couple WangXian. They fight the fairy statue, multiple puppets, and the dire owl. Xue Yang happens. They meet famous duo SL & XXC and LWJ & JC totally fanboy over them, and it’s only then, some real Zhiji vibes hit LWJ, albeit with a bit of a sombre mood after WWX’s chat with XXC. My next fave moment of eye contact, I can literally feel LWJ’s stomach butterflies here after they watch SL and XXC leave together:

Whoa, is that us now? I mean, do I dare to even hope that that’s us? 

LWJ decides to leave WWX in Qinghe under cover of darkness and asap. He has to get the yin iron back to Cloud Recesses with a low profile. So we don’t see them together again until the Wen Indoctrination Camp. They do a bunch of worrying and looking out for each other, and then we get the cave scene which has been giffed 4 million times already by others who have done a better job, but I haven’t so I slowed it right the fuck down. Forgive the bad colouring I’m trying not to take too much time over this. You’re right about this one anon.

Then lots of bad. I skipped these gifs because picture limit. In summary, LWJ is hurt and angry, lots of angy stares and sword pointing. How could WWX hurt himself by using these methods?! But then WWX promises he will never use demonic cultivation, and agrees to receiving help. LWJ can chill a bit. Night Hunt on Phoenix Mountain. I left this one out as it’s pretty self explanatory. “I used to think of you as my Zhiji”. “I still am”. Ugh but WWX knows he can’t unless he fully informs LWJ of his situation. It’s bittersweet. THE RAIN SCENE. This is not heart eyes or horniness anon it is pure PAIN. 

Let’s skip to some good stuff. Yiling dinner date! LWJ can handle strict Lan sect punishments, hoards of puppets and fierce corpses but this situation? Not so much. He is so confused by this strange clingy child and the rabbling crowd and here comes his reason for being here in the first place knight in shining amour! (Ur right here anon, pure heart eyes).

Do I put a Nightless City gif here? Do I put the cliff scene here? It’s the most LWJ’s facial muscles move in the entire show and yet I can’t bring myself to gif it. It’s pure agony. Definitely not any longing romantic looks or horniness here.

So moving swiftly on, jumping to ep 2 for the epically long eye contact moment aka when WangXian are reunited. LWJ. does. not. take. his. eyes. off. WWX. until. he. hears. Zidian. crackle. OMG.

Anyway, after the Yin City arc and watching SL walking away with what remains of XXC’s spiritual cognition, LWJ is not holding back now. The amount of eye f***ing after this moment is frankly obscene. I’ll just leave some gifs of that.

I kind of ran out of steam but you get my point. I guess you can boil the other moments down to the fact they love each other? But I don’t know why anyone would want to simplify things like that. I know I’ve missed a bunch of stuff but this is long enough as it is! My opinion about this will probably change too as I’m still fairly new to the fandom. You just accidentally unlocked an Easter Egg with your comment, as it’s what I’m currently nerding out over haha. I’ll shut up now.

#忘羡 #魏无羡 #蓝忘机 #the untamed #chen qing ling #omg i lost this post in my 2500+ drafts when i saved it #i thought it had been lost in the tumblr abyss #as soon as i hit post i know i'll immediately change my mind about something #so sorry anon #*throws self in bin* #anon #ask #o #陈情令

[astyle-alex]

[Fanfic] Museum Mishap | the BatFam

Museum Mishap  |  Chapter 5/6

Fandom: the DC Universe, Batman & co. Pairings: Jay x Tim Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson Rating: Gen Audiences Warnings: None

Total Word Count: 38,590

Summary:

Middle-School Tim Drake is on a field trip to the Science Museum, but with a WE exhibition of top-secret new technologies being staged in the basement, Tim separates from his classmates and breaks into the staff-only areas by using the skills he's developed over years of stalking Batman and Robin.

Current-Robin Jason Todd catches him in the act, but he's not there to confront Tim for trespassing or truancy - he's there because there's a rumor on the street that Tim Drake knows Batman's real name. And the rumor's gaining ground, quick, drawing in the wrong kind of attention.

When a Drug-Lord decides to take the rumor seriously enough to kidnap the little genius, Jason jumps into the crossfire. It all goes downhill from there. Fast.

(Jason is 14, Tim is 12)

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Museum Mishap Chapter 5: Checking Up

     Dick is the first to notice something’s different about Jason.

           Which is fair, because even though Bruce is the first person to see Jason after he wakes up on Saturday, a full 27 hours after being rescued from Sabini (ten of which he’d spent sleeping peacefully in his own bed instead of the Cave’s infirmary) – and even though Alfred is the first person to talk to him after he comes downstairs for breakfast – the bulk of what is actually noticeably different about Jason is aimed directly at Dick.

           Literally.

           Because Jason is starting.

           At Dick.

           From across his plate of scrambled eggs and sausage and toast piled high with strawberry preserves instead of the peach marmalade Dick likes and has on his own plate, Jason is staring. At Dick. Directly.

           He’s not even glaring at him, he’s just… watching.

           Which actually makes Dick more self-conscious than if Jason had been glaring, makes him think he’s done something wrong. Something especially wrong.

           Dick had never asked for a little brother, and to be perfectly honest he could admit that he hadn’t exactly been very nice to the one he’d acquired unexpectedly. While he had concrete and valid reasons to be pissed at Bruce for how he’d handled things, Dick wasn’t quite self-centered enough to miss how he hadn’t done right by Jason either.

           He’d screwed up their relationship in the beginning and now he spent most of his time trying to avoid making it worse. Which meant most simply that he spent most of his time straight up avoiding it…

           The longest span of time Dick had spent alone in a room with Jason since storming off to California a few weeks before his sixteenth birthday – to go be Robin with people who appreciated him and his skill and his right to wear the R, because it was his and always would be – was about the length of a Star Wars movie. The longest they’d spent together without such a specific and effective distraction was about twenty minutes.

           In which Alfred usually checked in on them halfway through.

           Because Jason does deserve the R.

           And he’s always resented that the older brother he’d never asked for thought he didn’t.

           Which isn’t exactly true, but Dick has never been able to explain that before Jason – brilliantly observant, woefully astute, and brutally willing to cut to the quick as he was – said something that made Dick get defensive. Which is when the yelling always started.

           And the quiet moments in between the yelling had always been punctuated by glaring.

           But now Jason is staring – and distinctly not glaring – and Dick doesn’t know what he did, or what he should do now. So, he sits in silence and plays with his eggs and worries.

           Because something is different about Jason this morning, and he doesn’t know why – or what it has to do with him. Or what Jason thinks it has to do with him.

           Because if Jason’s pissed with him for not getting to him quicker last night, for not jumping in earlier – early enough to stop Sabini from breaking his leg perhaps – then Jason would already be yelling. But he’s not. He’s staring.

           And Dick doesn’t know what to do.

           ���Do you have a driver’s license?”

           Dick is so startled by the question he nearly drops his fork.

           Actually, he does drop it. He just manages to catch it before it skitters off the counter.

           “B won’t let me in the Cave with my leg and Alf won’t let me have the keys to any cars topside until I’m legal,” Jason explains – without explaining anything.

           “Yeah, I’ve got my license.”

           Dicks voice doesn’t squeak or waver. He’s moderately certain that some sort of magic or robotic voice replacement tech is behind the phenomenon. Or maybe his Robin conditioning is finally proving useful outside of the dark allies where his calm could comfort victims.

           Jason nods. He’s still staring.

           But now he’s squinting, evaluative. Not quite a glare, but closer.

           “Cool. Can you drive me somewhere after breakfast?”

           Dick nods. He decides not to ask to ask why Jason isn’t asking Alfred to drive him.

           He also decides not to ask where Jason wants to go until they’re already in the car.

           They don’t speak again until after Dick pulls into the circle at the end of the Drake Estate’s mile-long driveway, and even then, it’s just a gruff C’mon to hurry Dick along while Jason hauls himself out of the car on his own.

           Dick is slightly distracted as he cuts the engine. He nods to Jason – who’s paying him zero attention – as he marvels openly at the fact that they do, apparently, have neighbors.

           The Drake mansion isn’t quite a massive or effortlessly grand as Wayne Manor, but it’s a decently imposing imitation. There’s wealth here, excess. And no hint of the soft touch that Alfred has to bring a human element into the aching chill of life with money.

           Dick wants to ask what they’re doing here, of all places, but Jason is focused.

           It’s a feat for Jason to wrestle his crutches out of the car and limp his way up the wide steps of the ostentation front stair, but he manages. He does it without even making Dick feel terrible about not offering to help – though he knows if he did offer, Jason’s only response would be to curse and try to whack him with the pointy end of his crutches.

           Dick follows silently up the stairs after him and waits as Jason rings the doorbell impatiently, pressing it again after only a few seconds of silence.

           He’s not quite scowling at the Drakes’ front door, but he’s not smiling either. Whatever he’s thinking about is serious enough to warrant asking Dick for help instead of Alfred. Dick is definitely concerned by that, but there a hopeful anxiousness twisting in him too.

           Because Jason needed help, and he asked Dick to provide it.

           It’s not much, but it’s something.

           Jason’s leaning on the doorbell again when Dick hears a shuffling inside that indicates someone coming to check the matter. Dick hopes it’s not an elderly butler – Alfred moves around pretty well for his age, but it’s a big house and it takes even him a minute to get to the door on the bizarre occasion Wayne Manor has unexpected security-approved visitors.

           The Drakes’ equivalent can’t possibly be as light-footed or quick and Dick wants to tell Jason that it’s not whoever’s fault that it takes a while getting from one end of a mansion to the other on a Saturday morning for an unanticipated guest.

           There’s the sound of the lock being turned, but the door doesn’t open immediately.

           Jason is about to lean on the bell again – and Dick is seriously considering how counter-productive it will be to stop him from being overly rude – when the knob finally spins and the massive solid-wood structure sweeps inward.

           Dick plasters a smile on his face and –        

           It’s the kid from Thursday night.

           Dick’s whole being freezes.

           It’s the kid that took a beating because Sabini thought he knew something about Batman.

           Dick is stuck in a sudden mental rut of wondering why this kid – and Dick know he’s a tough one, he’s seen it, but he’s a head shorter than Jason and probably weighs as much as Dick’s leg and he’s just survived a torturous kidnapping and should be on bedrest with soup and blankets and stuffed animals – why this kid is answering his own door.

           Especially in a house like this. His family is clearly rich beyond reason and could have a flurry of staff to care for the household’s daily needs and to fawn sweetly over the poor injured young master. So why is he answering the door?

           When his door costs as much as the entire Trailer the Flying Graysons called home in Haly’s Circus. When there are still bruises on his face where Sabini’s fingers gripped him that haven’t quite gone ugly and greenish from healing. When the butterfly bandage on his cheek is still the only thing holding the skin together beneath the antiseptic goo.

           Jason’s brain is clearly doing the same acrobatics as Dicks, asking questions it’s not really keen on getting answered because the answers can’t be good, but Jason recovers faster.

           Which is good because the Drake boy – Timmy, Dick remembers, except no, that’s just what Jason called him, he introduced himself as Tim in his brief moment of lucidity on Friday morning – is looking between the pair on his doorstep like one of the rescue dogs Dick remembers Haly bringing into the circus fold on their first days of being treated well.

           They were cautious and skittish and quick to shy away, but also a little bit awed by the care and attention being paid to them – slightly overwhelmed to say the least. And Tim Drake is clearly in a similar state of mind.

           Dick is frozen on the doorstep.

           Tim is frozen in the doorway.

           Jason falters too, but only for a moment. Then he’s using his crutches to nudge Tim out of the way, so he can swing himself through the door and into the Drakes’ imposing foyer.

           Dick follows.

           Tim remembers to close the door – and lock it too, with a sturdy deadbolt that Dick knows will provide actual security – and then shuffles after Dick and Jason.

           Silent on his feet – impressive, given the floppy sneakers he’s wearing – Tim allows Jason to lead the way through the mansion’s sprawl to its kitchen. Tim is watching Jason’s back as he swings forward on his crutches, which gives Dick time to look around the mansion as they walk. He knows Jason’s scoping the place out too, and he’s glad Jason can manage it with that subtle street-wise skill he’s got ingrained. Dick could probably be subtle – he was trained by Batman – but he’s finding it hard to rein in the reaction he’s having to the place.

           It’s absolutely sterile here.

           More like a museum than like a house.

           Nothing looks soft, or like it’s meant for people to sit on, and the few chairs and cushions Dick has clocked as they move through the sprawl don’t look like anyone has ever used them. There’s not a speck of dust, but honestly that just makes it worse. There are people that come through here, in order to clean it at least, but nobody lives here.

           “What’re you saying about your face,” Jason asks bluntly when he stumbles upon the masterwork that is the Drake kitchen. Dick can tell that finding the kitchen has help Jason relax a little, that being in a place that’s meant to be sterile has helped at least as much as the prospect of diving into the soothing rhythm of cooking, but Tim doesn’t pick up on Jason’s new degree of ease and relax himself. If anything, he tenses more.

           “I’m going to say that I tried to launch a rocket in the back yard and it blew up in my face,” Tim explains. He watches as Jason moves to investigate his fridge.

           He notes when Jason stiffens, flinches as he realizes what he just said to prompt it, and he whips his head around when Dick is the one to speak up about it. “You’re ‘going to say’?”

           Dick knows the way he blurted it in aching disbelief is rude. Not calm. Not helpful.

           But he’s lost sensation in his limbs and his stomach is still sinking towards the center of the earth at supersonic speeds.

           They had dropped Tim back into his bed at 2pm on Friday afternoon, once Bruce had convinced Alfred that he was stable and well on his way to healing. That was almost 20 hours ago. Dick’s stomach churns as he realizes that no one’s been to check on him in almost a full day.

           Tim survived a brutal beating, and he’s been dealing with the mental fallout of his kidnapping – not to mention the physical aspects of his recovery – entirely alone.

           Dick is staring at Tim, wide-eyed and worried, and he knows it isn’t helping as Tim looks down and toes at the marble floor.

           “Mrs. Simz doesn’t work on Fridays,” he mumbles. “She thinks I spend Friday nights with my school’s chess club.”

           Jason snorts. “Of course, she does. That sounds perfectly reasonable.”

           He pauses. Anyone but Dick probably wouldn’t be able to catch the way he steels himself and forces down a mix of rage and worry before he asks lightly, “Hey, kid, you got any flour hiding in this joint? Baking soda?”

           “Why?”

           “I’m gonna make pancakes, obviously,” Jason replies, shouldering open the fridge and pulling out milk and eggs. He spreads his haul on the island and shoots Dick a look that he hopes means that he should start investigating the Drake cabinets for mixing bowls and a griddle and such. Because that’s what Dick starts doing.

           “Pancakes?”

           “Yeah, they’re kinda like pizza – you eat them,” Jason replies, a gruff amusement in his voice that tells Dick there’s some sort of inside joke involved.

           Dick wants to think that there’s no part of the joke where he should be legitimately concerned that Tim doesn’t eat, but he also remembers how easy it was to pick the kid up when they rescued him. Sure, he’s only twelve, but Dick is fairly certain that he weighed at least twice what Tim does when he was twelve. Comparing him to Jason – even the emaciated twelve year old Jason that had first been brought to the Manor – would be too tragic to let him keep the smile on his face, so Dick consciously fights the urge.

           Tim jumps in to help direct Dick and Jason around his kitchen, Tim acting as Jason’s legs while Jason barks orders. Dick didn’t know Jason could cook, but he’s not as surprised as he thought he’d be – even when Jason whips out the fancy tricks like cracking the eggs one-handed and twirling his spatula as he times the flips perfectly.

           Butter and syrup appear on the island as Dick tries to help put the finishing touches on their meal. It’s been over an hour since breakfast, so Dick can definitely eat – and he knows Jason is probably already starving. Tim is looking at the looming stack of pancakes warily, however, and Dick is pleased with himself for not shooting Jason a worried look.

           It gets even harder to resist when they actually settle down to eat and Tim expends a painstaking amount of effort on arranging the careful stack of pancakes on his plate instead of making any move to dig in.

           “So, Timmy,” Jason says around a mouthful of pancakes, “Find any cool new toys since you’ve been home playin’ with your rocket?”

           Both confused, Dick and Tim look blankly at Jason – who rolls his eyes. Then he taps his ear and makes a wide gesture about the kitchen. He’s asking if Tim’s found any Bat bugs.

           Dick knows Batman must’ve left some – Tim was suspected of knowing his secrets for a reason, after all, and Bruce would certainly want to keep tabs on any future developments that might potentially occur. What Dick does not know is why Jason’s asking Tim if he found any listening devices hidden in his home – why he’s referencing the plausible option so casually, so openly. Unless… unless Tim knows.

           Scandalized, Tim looks between Jason and Dick – redness creeping up his neck until his ears are bright ruby – and then stares down at his pancakes. He nods.

           Like he’s pulling teeth, Jason waits a beat to make sure Tim is still alive and then asks with the same casual air, “Find any in here?”

           This time, Tim shakes his head, still staring resolutely at his pancakes – and still making no move to actually eat them.

           Jason nods, satisfied.

           Tim waits, but Jason doesn’t say anything else.

           Eventually, peeks up. Looks at Jason. Waits.

           Then he slowly, sheepishly turns his head to look at Dick. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the accusations and yelling to start. Tim does know their secret, and he expects to be in serious trouble for it.

           Jason levels his own look at Dick, daring him to break the tenuous trust they’ve developed in the last few hours by voicing any sort chastisement.

           When they’d first brought Jason and Tim back to the Cave, Batman had been on Jason about getting to the truth of the rumors around Tim – to the point of absurdity, considering that there were two traumatized and injured kids to care for, considering that Jason himself was being questioned before Batman would give his broken leg the medical attention it needed…

           Dick had spoken up in defense of Jason – asserting his own opinion that Tim was ignorant of the secret that got him wrapped up in this mess – mostly because he was pissed at Bruce for being so callous. Dick knew that Bruce cared, that he cared so much he buried all of his feelings deep beneath an impenetrable layer of cold practicality so he could deal with the pragmatic details of resolving the situation.

           But it was really hard to remember that he cared when it felt more like he wanted answers in his own interrogation rather than to help the adopted son he’d just rescued from a drug-lord who’d been asking the same questions.

           But Dick had defended Jason’s stand against Bruce.

           At the time, he hadn’t realized Jason was lying – that Bruce honestly did have a valid reason to worry about Tim’s ability to threaten Batman’s secrets. He knew Jason wasn’t being entirely honest, but he’d brushed it off as embarrassment at getting caught and needing rescue.

           Knowing what he does now, that Tim is aware of much more than he should be, Dick isn’t certain he would’ve made the same call. On the one hand, he wants to trust his brother’s judgement – to stay focused on Tim as a victim rather than a threat – but he also feels the urge to trust his mentor’s trend of caution, because if Tim threatens Bruce’s secrets he’s also threatening Dick’s. And Jason’s. And possibly Barbara, and the Titans, and any other mask they’ve ever worked with… Tim could be very dangerous if Jason’s wrong about trusting him.

           But Tim is waiting to be yelled at – waiting to face the good guys’ wrath for simply being clever. And Dick had seen the R on Tim’s sweater. He’s a fan, and he’s been clever, and he’d taken one hell of a beating for a twelve year old kid to be expected to handle.

           And he hadn’t talked.

           It was more than Dick would’ve expected from most grown-ups. It was as much or even more than he’d expect from adults trained to withstand interrogation.

           If Dick needed proof that Tim wasn’t a threat, that was it.

           Tim was still staring at him – waiting for his anger. Waiting to be punished.

           Jason was staring too – waiting for a reason to get angry himself.

           Resolved to let Tim continue to fly under Batman’s radar, Dick doesn’t say anything. He just takes another bite of his pancakes. The bite goes down easier than he expects, validation that his gut trusts Tim on a level beyond instinctual. Something more like kinship.

           Tim keeps staring – like he doesn’t quite recognize what it means that Dick is just going on with eating like a major secret affecting both of their lives hasn’t just been exposed – but Jason relaxes. He even flashes Dick what could pass for a smile.

           It makes Dick feel like he’s made the right decision all over again.

           He’s got very little good history with Jason, but he’s working on his own issues and he thinks that, just maybe, he and Jason can work with this – can use Tim’s hush-hush existence as a bit of common ground to try standing by each other instead of against each other.

           Tim is still staring, though.

           Still waiting, still worried, still convinced that he’s in trouble.

           “Pancakes not to your liking, Tim?” Dick asks, flashing him a grin. It’s not the dazzling, thousand-watt smile that’s always made him shine as a media darling, but it’s still bright and teasing enough to startle Tim. And genuine.

           Jason growls before Tim recovers, retorting, “Hey, my pancakes are fantastic, asshole.”

           Dick gives a shrug, his smiling building as he feels out Jason’s grumble and realizes that there’s almost no real malice in it – none of the gritty defensiveness he’s used to from Jason.

           “They’re, um, great,” Tim replies in a squeak.

           With another snort, Jason says, “You haven’t even tried them yet.”

           He reaches across the island and swoops a smear of butter onto Tim’s topmost pancake, giving the terrified youngster a mild heart attack. He pushes the syrup across the table with his fork – it’s good stuff, real maple in a ceramic jug – until it clicks pointedly against Tim’s plate.

           “Eat.”

           Tim picks up his fork, obedient but still anxious and pushes a few bites around before he finally picks one up and forces it into his mouth and down his throat.

           Watching as Tim swallows and waiting until it looks like he might take another bite of his own volition, Jason says, “You gotta relax, Timmers. We’re the frickin good guys.”

           Dick gives a supportive smile as Tim forces himself to nod.

           His eyes jump guiltily to Dick for a moment but then he settles and takes another bite of his pancakes. This time he looks much less like he wants to throw the food back up immediately.

           “How’s, um, how’s your leg,” Tim asks. Guilty, which makes Dick’s lungs tighten, but at least he’s speaking up – which means he might be able to be convinced he’s not at fault.

           “It’s good,” Jason replies with a shrug. “I’ve gotta stay off it completely for the next week, and I’m benched for the next three, at least, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

           Dick snorts. “You’re supposed to stay off it for three weeks,” Dick counters automatically. He lets himself fall into older-brother over-dive to add, “And B wants to keep you benched for the next two months. Alf might actually put you in a coma if he sees you trying to go down to the Cave before the cast comes off.”

           With a shrug, Jason says, “So like two weeks and we call it even.”

           Dick tries to claw back the sigh that’s threatening to cut off all his air.

           “It was a pretty bad break,” Tim pipes up. He looks slightly guilt-ridden, but he forges on to add, “But it was direct contact to the bone, instead of to a joint, and I’m guessing it was a stable, simple tibia fracture – no skin penetration or muscle tears – and it was either transverse or very slightly oblique, so it should heal cleanly.”

           “Not if he bungs it up by trying to do cartwheels on it too quickly,” Dick counters.

           “I’m gonna leave the cartwheeling to you, Dickiebird,” Jason replies with a chuckle that’s warm and teasing and so much nicer than the conversations he’s used to having with Jason.

           It almost sounds like they’re just talking about your average sports injury, and Tim even joins in a few more times as the discussion shifts to Dick and his penchant for cartwheeling down the long halls of Wayne Manor. Tim’s a fan of the Flying Graysons, and after a little figuring, Dick actually remembers meeting him before – before the show for a picture and a hug and a somersault promise, before Zucco, before his parents fell… before life got so complicated.

           Dick and Jason and Tim stay gathered around the island in the Drakes’ kitchen until Tim has completely finished his plate of pancakes without needing to have Jason force him through each bite. And they stay an hour after they’ve cleaned up, and an hour after that too.

           They stay until Alfred sends Dick a text to warn him that Bruce is getting antsy with their absence, antsy enough to start wondering where they’ve gone.

           Tim looks sad as they start gearing up to head back to the Manor, but Jason assures him that they’ll be back tomorrow – and after school on Monday, assuming Tim actually goes to school on Monday. Neither vigilante would blame him if he wanted to take a day off.

           “Why?”

           “Because you got beat up by a drug-lord,” Jason told him with a gruff, but affectionate exasperation Dick can hardly believe he’s hearing from the ill-tempered teenager, “That totally warrants a fucking vacation day or two.”

           Tim shakes his head. “No, I mean why are you gonna come here? Why’re you here at all, if I’m not in trouble for… you know.” He mumbles through most of the words, falling back into the timid little thing he was when he first saw Dick and Jason standing at his door.

           It’s only now that Dick realizes how much he’d managed to come out of that shell.

           “We’re checking up on you, baby bird,” Jason huffs, “Duh.”

           “But why?”

           Tim stands there like the question is perfectly innocent, like it’s not one of the most heartbreaking thing Dick has ever been asked.

           If Jason didn’t have a broken leg and crutches to wrestle with, Dick is sure that Tim would be trapped under Jason’s arm getting his hair mussed beyond all possible repair. As it stands, Jason looks halfway to smacking Tim with one of his crutches.

           Or smacking whoever made him feel like his current state of being is somehow one that is in any way an acceptable situation for a child.

           But Dick smiles and slings an arm around Jason’s shoulders.

           “Because we’re Robins,” he says, promising, “And that’s what we do.”

           There’s a pause.

           And then Tim nods, smiling back in a way that makes Dick’s limbs feel gooey as he goes all warm and fuzzy. He can feel Jason lean into his side, can see that he’s smiling too – not as broadly as Dick is, but the expression is just as genuine. A bit surprised, perhaps, but happy.

           The door closes behind them and Jason clambers into his side of the car without beating Dick with his crutches for helping. The drive back to the Manor is just as quick as the one away from it this morning, but not as quiet.

           The Robins get themselves on a united platform about having gone to visit Drake as civilians – he’d recognized Jason as a Wayne and they’d gone to commiserate with Jason as a fellow victim of random, rumor fueled violence. They explain again to Bruce that Tim doesn’t know anything about Batman and latch onto Alfred’s concern that the boy’s parents are still out of the country. The Robins volunteer to go over and check on him tomorrow.

           At Alfred’s insistence, they agree to spend most of the day there, and several days next week – and bring over some of Alfred’s amazing, high-nutrition cooking.

           With all three of them set against Bruce in this, he relents to giving full approval to their plan – assuming that Nightwing patrols with Batman for the next three weeks while Robin remains obediently on bedrest.

           The butler sides with Bruce on that one, but he gives the boys a wink behind Bruce’s back and it makes Dick get that warm and fuzzy glow again.

           He’s halfway giddy all through that night’s patrol.

           Batman notices.

           But Dick doesn’t explain when he’s asked about it.

           He just says that he and Jason are finally seeing eye to eye about what it means to hero in Gotham, to be Robin… to be a good Robin.

           He smiles into the sunrise after a long night of beating up petty thugs on Gotham’s street corners – of looking into and utterly quashing any remaining rumors that Timothy Drake has any information on Batman. And maybe the throws a few extra flips into the maneuvers that carry him from rooftop to rooftop of Gotham’s city skyline.

           It’s a beautiful day and Dick resolves to make the most of the chances he’s been given – however unfortunate the circumstances around them. The world is already a slightly better place, and Dick is determined to make it more so, bit by bit.

           Because we’re Robins. And that’s what we do.

||  Read on Ao3 | Read on FF.net | Follow my updates on Patreon ||

#BatFam #Batman #Batman & Robin #Jay x Tim #Jason Todd #Jason Todd x Tim Drake #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson

[fangirlshrewt97]

The Witcher Fic - Give Me One More Chance (Part 4)

Author: Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: The Witcher (TV Series)

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier|Dandelion, Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer of Vengerburg, Geralt of Rivia & Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Jaskier|Dandelion & Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier|Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Yennefer of Vengerburg, Roach

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up (Swearing, Mild Gore)

Warnings: None Apply

Additional Tags: Post Episode S01E06: Rare Species, Emotionally Constipated Geralt of Rivia, Pining, Touch-Starved Geralt of Rivia, Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt & Comfort, First Kiss, Getting Together, Canon-Typical Levels of Violence, Monsters, I really put Geralt through the wringer here, but I am ok with that because poor Jaskier did not deserve it, I do acknowledge though that Geralt is multiple levels of screwed up and maybe thought he was helping them both when he was actually hurting them

Summary: After the dragon hunt, Geralt tries to cope with his actions. And misses Jaskier a lot. But refuses to deal with his feeling even when it almost kills him.

Alternate title: 5 things Geralt misses about Jaskier + 1 he didn’t need to

Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24389734

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

                                                              *****

To Jaskier’s credit, the bard did not let their incredibly unexpected interruption break his stride, especially when Yennefer came to his side. No, the bard’s eyes turned stony and he turned his gaze away from him. Geralt bore every second of pain. But then,

“Dandelion!”

Ciri raced forward, dodging and zigzaging through the crowd before throwing herself at the bard, arms snapping tightly around his waist. Jaskier staggered, but stayed standing. He placed his lute on an empty space in the table in front of him before returning the hug.

“My darling.” Jaskier says, voice and eyes so full of fondness Geralt wanted to break a table.

“Bard, another song!” A villager demanded. Jaskier’s eyes dim just a bit, even if his fake smile didn’t.

“I’m so sorry my good fellow, but I’m afraid I have sung myself near hoarse this evening. I thank you all for your most generous coin, and ask you to bear with me. I will be here tomorrow as well and promise to take all requests!” Jaskier says, accompanying his declaration with an overly exaggerated bow. Ciri covered her mouth and giggled, laughing when Jaskier tilts his head and winks at her.

The villagers grumbled but accepted Jaskier’s offer. Many started to take their leave since the show was over. Jaskier spotted an empty booth in the corner, and picked up his lute before herding Ciri towards the booth. He passed by the barkeep and orders two cups of ale. He was not doing this sober.

Geralt stayed frozen until Yennefer gently bumped him. She leaned into his ear and whispered “I’m going to find me and Ciri a room at the inn. You go talk to your bard. And fix things.” She said before disappearing behind him.

Steeling himself, Geralt made his way over to the stall. Ciri was sitting besides Jaskier and talking a mile a minute. And she was calling him Dandelion. What?

Geralt squeezed himself into the opposing bench. Jaskier barely spared him a glance before taking a swing of his cup of ale. He did not pass the other cup to him.

Before he can think of what to say, Ciri finished her story to Jaskier before plastering herself to him and turned to Geralt, eyes twinkling brighter than Geralt had ever seen them. He felt his heart wrench in his chest. It was a hard battle to convince himself that his heart ached due to those twinkles and not the fond smile Jaskier was giving her.

“Geralt! This is Dandelion!” Ciri said as if that explained anything. Jaskier chuckled lowly, and dammit if Geralt did not get goosebumps over the sound.

“Oh darling one, I already know this Witcher.”

Ciri turned back to him confused. “You do?”

“Mmhmm. He knows me too, except he knows me by another name.”

“What?”

“Jaskier.” Geralt interrupts. Jaskier met him head on. His smile was flat, and his face was blank. His heartbeat gave nothing away. Geralt hated it all.

Ciri’s face twisted into a frown before her eyes widened and she whispered to Geralt “Songbird? Your songbird was Dandelion?" before turning to Jaskier and asking him "You are Jaskier?”

It was difficult to say at whom she was more betrayed by.

An emotion flashes so briefly through Jaskier’s face that if Geralt had not been focusing on it so much, he would have missed it altogether. “Songbird huh? Has the White Wolf been talking about me little one?”

Ciri hesitated, glancing at Geralt, before slowly shaking her head.

The hurt was easier to spot, the scent of it enough to nearly have Geralt throwing himself at Jaskier’s feet. The narrowness of the booth and Ciri being the only things stopping him.

“Fiona.” Geralt addressed the girl, Jaskier was still not willing to talk to him. “How do you know Jaskier?”

“I…I didn’t know him as Jaskier. He is…was? I knew him as Dandelion. And he has been coming to Cintra every year on my birthday to sing at the celebration feast. Grandmother wasn’t too fond of him, but grandfather always convinced her to allow Dandelion to be the bard of honour in the end.” she explained succinctly.

Geralt didn’t know what to do with that information. Jaskier had been keeping track of his Child Surprise? And not told him even when they were travelling together? Why did he go as Dandelion?

Jaskier stepped into the conversation. “My dearest. It is getting late, and this one does not go easy on his fellow travelers, so I am sure you must be exhausted. Do you have a room? Or-”

“Yennefer got them a room at the town inn.” Geralt stated.

Jaskier flinched at the sorceress’s name. Geralt wanted to apologize.

“But-” Ciri started to protest only to quell at both their stares. She shrunk back into her seat. Jaskier softened first. He gently reached out to pet Ciri’s hair, tucking a loose strand behind her hair. “I will be here tomorrow to dearest. Go rest.”

“Promise?” Ciri asked, voice barely audible.

Jaskier smiled fondly at her and nods. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and brought her close to press a lingering kiss to her forehead.

He then leaned his own forehead against hers. “I promise.”

Ciri made a whining noise and threw her arms around his neck for a hug before moving back, standing and smoothening out the creases in her blue cloak. The coat had long since lost the shine after weeks of travelling through forests and backwater hamlets.

“You will stay here until I come back from the inn?” Geralt asked as he rose to accompany Ciri.

He knew Jaskier would not lie to Ciri if he were to truly disappear in the night, but that was no guarantee the bard would be willing to talk to him alone.

Jaskier gave him an appraising look before giving one curt nod.

“Thank you.” Geralt said, trying to infuse as much gratitude as he could into the words. Because Jaskier saying he would be here meant Jaskier was giving him a chance to explain him. A chance to fix the mess he made.

Not wanting to keep the bard waiting too long, Geralt quickly herded Ciri to the inn with Yennefer, telling the pair not to stay awake for him. Ciri agreed easily for once, and went to get ready for bed. Yennefer caught his arm as he turned to return to the tavern. “Geralt.”

“I need to go Yen.”

“Of course you do. What I am saying is that you should be careful. Do not break that man’s heart twice.”

Geralt glances sharply at her, but Yennefer meets his gaze head on. Her violet eyes were blank, just like that day on the mountain.

Gritting his teeth he pulled away from her and went back to the tavern. Jaskier was still at the booth like he said he would be, and despite knowing the bard wouldn’t go back on his word, seeing the familiar silhouette quelled a small part of Geralt’s brain. As he walked towards the booth and sat down, his heart pounded.

The two men just stared at each other for a long time without saying anything. Geralt focused on Jaskier’s doublet, a signature vivid colour that made him stand out in a crowd without hurting the onlooker’s eyes. Geralt felt his lips quirk in a smile as his eyes feasted on the rich dye.

The world had become so dull and colourless in this last year, and only now sitting in front of the bard himself did Geralt realize how much of his world’s colours had been given to him by Jaskier. He could not even blame him for stealing away the colors of Geralt's world. The Witcher had been the one who pushed him away. His colorful songbird, and oh how that hurt. His bard of a thousand hues, impractical outfits of every color of the rainbow, who peacocked his way into the best courts of the land, and wrong beds too. With plumage that adorned him perfectly, from the golden doublet that made his skin glow to the blue one that made his eyes stand unnaturally apart. To that damned royal red doublet that haunted Geralt’s nightmares, causing him to whip his head in its direction if he ever caught that shade from the corner of his eye in every town they passed.

“It is good to see you Jaskier.” Geralt finally said.

The bard’s face flashed through a myriad of emotions before resetting to blank, but his eyes burned with anger hot enough Geralt felt as though he should be ash.

“That’s all you have to say?” Jaskier spit out. “’It’s good to see you Jaskier?”

Geralt grit his own teeth, trying not to let the bard provoke him into a fight.

“I am sorry. What I said that day in the mountains. I didn’t mean it.”

Jaskier laughed an ugly laugh that Geralt immediately hated. That was not how Jaskier sounded. That should never be how he sounded. Hollow and resentful.

“Oh you idiotic Witcher. You did mean every word though. That is the problem. You meant exactly what you said. You believed then that I was the reason for all the misfortune that you went through, that it was because of me that you had a hard life.” Jaskier finished his cup of ale and then took the other cup and gulped it down too. He looked half-feral by the end of it. “I always only ever wanted to help you Geralt. I wanted to ensure that your life was not as difficult. Every song, every bar fight with bigoted villagers, every doublespeak with nobility to pay you the actual cost of the kill and not shortchange you. Everything I did was for you. And you repaid me grandly. Truly.”

Geralt flinched. He curled his hands into fists. Jaskier was right. The human had only ever done what he thought was best for the Witcher. Never once worked against him, or used him solely for his benefit.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did that day in the mountains. You were not the cause of my problems. I have Ciri in my life because of you. Even if you don’t particularly like her, I have Yennefer because of you.”

Jaskier did not look less angry.

“Jaskier.” Geralt sighed. He was not one for words, that had always been Jaskier. But if he wanted to keep the bard in his life, he knew he would have to talk his way into regaining his companion. He decided to be honest. “I miss you.”

“I don’t.” Jaskier said. This time, Geralt couldn’t stop the filch. “I don’t miss your patronizing tone, I don’t miss you leaving me behind while on the road in the mornings and having to catch up with you, I don’t miss your taciturn silence as though you talking to me is beneath you, and I definitely don’t miss your glares and ‘fuck off’ attitude you have had with me for so very long. I never asked for more than you could give Geralt. You think the mountain is the first time you hurt me?” At Geralt’s horrified face, Jaskier laughed cruelly again. “You have hurt me with your actions for far longer than with your words Witcher. And whatever I might actually miss about travelling with you, the reasons not to currently far outweigh whatever reasons you will undoubtedly propose to me to convince me to travel with you.”

Seeing Geralt with no retort, Jaskier nodded sharply. “Yes, that’s what I guessed. It is late. I promised my young friend I would see her in the morning.”

Jaskier moved to leave, but Geralt shot out his hand to grip his wrist. Jaskier looked back at him before shaking himself loose. “Good night Geralt.”

It sounded too much like goodbye.

///

That night, once he put away the swords and made one last round around the inn to make sure everything was quiet, he lay on his bed with the handkerchief from so long ago. After so long between his armor and the fight at Kaer Morhen, the cloth was a dull white, yet to Geralt, all he saw was the snow white tint from when he first received it. And even as he brought it to his nose to scent it, knowing full well the scent was gone, he yearned for the spark of comfort it always gave.

He wondered if he could steal something from Jaskier before the bard left his life forever. And oh how much did that thought hurt him. The rainbow kaleidoscope the bard brought into his life, Geralt had not even noticed until faced with the bard. The hamlet seemed far more colorful now compared to when they walked into it, despite nothing having changed. Growling and prowling to his window, Geralt opened it and allowed the cold breeze to fill the room, biting into his face. Feeling real.

He had never thought to pay attention to the colours of the world, to see the beauty. He was a Witcher. His job revolved around the chaos and darkness of the world, around eliminating it. He had always been told he belonged in the same dangerous darkness he sought to make safe, too terrifying for humans to look at.

But Jaskier had never cared had he? He had seen him after a hunt, white as a ghost, black veins running across his body, eyes pitch black and other. And he had embraced him, metaphorically and literally.

He stood at the window until the silver moon was more than half done with its journey across the sky before he closed the window and tried to get some sleep.

He dreams of vivid songbirds dancing and singing from treetops bathed in sunlight.

///

Geralt spent the day studiously avoiding the tavern above which he could scent Jaskier laying around. The closest he allowed himself to get was strolling casually beneath its windows and hearing the strumming of a familiar lute drifting across the hardwood walls.

Yennefer must have said something to Ciri, because the little girl thankfully did not bring up Jaskier at all. Yennefer rolled her eyes when Geralt sent her a grateful nod.

The sun had barely set when Ciri finally could not contain her excitement at seeing Jaskier and tore across the hamlet into the tavern. Much like last night, Jaskier was at the center of the still empty tavern, though it was starting to fill up. Today, he was in a shiny blue-silver doublet and trousers, a dark grey chemise peeking out from under the open doublet.

Jaskier glanced up when their group entered the tavern, and learning from last night, braced himself against the table so he didn’t fall to the floor when Ciri crashed into him.

“Darling, oh how you are a sight for truly sore eyes.” Jaskier whispered into Ciri’s hair, still loud enough for Geralt to hear with his enhanced senses. Geralt knew he should probably at least give them the illusion of privacy, but the sight of Jaskier with his Child Surprise, with his daughter was giving him heart palpitations. Jaskier’s smile was so full of warmth and love, Geralt equally envied Ciri for being the recipient and yearned to have such a look directed at him. Especially once Jaskier caught his eyes and gave him a cold and impassive stare.

“Jask-” Geralt started only for the bard to interrupt him.

“I have a performance to start. I asked the barkeep to keep the table we sat at yesterday vacant for you three.” Jaskier stated. "Yennefer."

“It is good to see you Jaskier.” Yennefer said, for once not adding on any snide remarks. Geralt saw the clench of Jaskier’s jaw as he nodded.

By that time, the tavern had become as crowded as yesterday, and no sooner had they taken their seats that different voices started to shout out names of ballads. Jaskier laughed agreeably and quietened them with a performer’s charm.

“My dear friends, fear not, I will be here tonight for as long as you demand, I shall get to all your requests. But I had a request from a darling friend of mine, and I haven’t seen her in so very long, so if you don’t mind, I will fulfill her request first?” Jaskier said.

The crowd grumbled but grew silent when Jaskier began to strum. He launched into “The Bear and the Maidan Fair”, sending raucous cheers through the crowd as they began to keep beat with claps and boot stomping. Ciri was fully invested too, the song had always been so funny and the chorus was so catchy. Yennefer watched her fondly, smiling at the reminder than between the enormous untapped magical power and the price on her head that had her fleeing from hamlet to village to town, she was still a scared little girl who deserved every bit of fun they could give her.

It went on like that for the rest of night, hours of the bard singing song after song, never showing his exhaustion. Geralt basked in his voice, fearing this might be the last time he got to hear it, and wasn’t that the irony? He had for so long wished for Jaskier to be quiet, and here he was hoping Jaskier never stopped singing.

Jaskier danced around the tavern, pulling people out into the crowd, young girls and old men alike, inviting them to dance the jig with him until the whole tavern was filled with joy and laughter. Ciri even pulled Yennefer onto the dance floor, swinging their arms around and just letting go of their stresses for a week.

When the crowd finally dispersed, Ciri was swaying on her feet, looking ready to fall asleep standing.

After he was finished collecting all his Jaskier wordlessly walked with them to the inn.

He even helped tuck Ciri into bed. As he went to leave, Ciri grabbed his sleeve. “Dandelion, will you please come with us?”

Jaskier felt a lump in his throat. He still had so much anger and hurt from the way he had been treated by Geralt and even if unintentionally, Yennefer. Yet the one asking was this sweet little girl he had returned to see every year, the one being forced to grow up far too soon. The one he had thought dead until she blew into the inn like a miracle. The one who he saw butchered or slain when he closed his eyes.

Fuck Geralt and Yennefer. If they didn’t like him, that was their problem.

He was not going to leave her when she was asking so sincerely. Bending down to brush a soft kiss to her forehead Jaskier caressed her cheek and replied quietly “Alright princess.”

Ciri smiled at him and closed her eyes drifting off to sleep immediately. Taking a deep breath and drinking in the peaceful sight in front of him, Jaskier stood up and faced the other two in the room.

“I don’t care if neither of you want me coming with you, I am coming because Ciri asked, and honestly I have known the girl longer and am willing to bet my very lute she trusts me far more than you two. So I am going to come with you to wherever you are taking her. Any objections?” Jaskier ended, knowing full well neither would speak up.

Yennefer looked resigned to her fate, and Geralt looked shocked, but, and Jaskier hated his heart for daring to feel a spark of anything, hopeful.

“Good. We should leave tomorrow. Resupply what you need, we can leave after lunch.”

As Jaskier swept out of the room to return to his own, Geralt would swear the fire was sparking a little brighter red than before.

#the witcher #the witcher fic #my fic #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #geraskier fic #yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla fiona elen riannon #give me one more chance #part 4 #I'm done with this fic #i'll be updating daily #let me know what you think!

[bigskydreaming]

Just wanted to thank people again for their reblogs and donations, I will never be able to describe how I feel about the support - both tangible and emotional - that people on here have given me over the past three months in particular. Especially now that I have a definitive diagnosis and course of treatment to aim for, and an optimistic timeline of maybe even having the surgery within the next few months, at least before the summer....it really just depends there on whether my insurance approves that expense or how much of it, etc.

I still definitely could use continued help, though I’m trying my best to not rely on it as much as possible. Its just...yeah. We’ve kinda hit the point where its really just not possible period for me to make it where I need to get to without support. The slight downside to all the positive stuff I mentioned above is I’m a very goal oriented person. And this has been a very long and constant ordeal for me, where its been nothing but seven days of constant stress and pain a week, not able to rest or relax or take a day off working or searching for work for literally months and months. The only way I’ve managed to keep going is by fixating on some nebulous future point I had to reach and kinda use that to drag myself forward day by day. Its not nebulous anymore. I have answers, I have concrete needs and timelines and all that. But that also means now I have a very clear awareness that I can not make it the rest of the way with just the resources I already have myself.

It’s like...desperation energy, that’s fueled me to get this far and last this long, but there’s a difference between desperation and futility, and motivating myself with the thought ‘just hang in there long enough to get answers and solutions and FIX things’, like, it did what it needed to do, getting me in sight of all that, but it took pretty much everything I’ve got to use all that to tread water, to just stay afloat to get to this point. There’s just not enough there to stretch that out to continuing to stay afloat WHILE doing three times as much work on TOP of that. I know my capabilities and have a lot of self-respect for them, but I also know my limits and I can’t afford to waste everything it took to get to this point just so I can pretend I’m capable of more than I am. Because that’s the other downside of being in sight of the finish line, but still having it far enough away its not anywhere you’re gonna reach in just a few more steps.....like, lmao, I’m fucking tired. I want to rest. And I’ve gotten just enough good news after nothing but years of new rock bottoms that my brain and my body are trying to take that as a sign that its okay for me to just collapse now and take a breather. But I can’t really. Because I’m still not actually there yet.

So on that note, putting the link to my paypal up here nearer to the top for a change, for people who don’t actually need my long-windedness, lol.

https://paypal.me/bigskydreaming?locale.x=en_US

And then on a related note, I just wanted to say again that I’m totally okay with and even eager for people to leave notes with their donation for any writing commission I can do in return. Again, this is totally MY issue, and not something I think should apply to all donation posts: expectations of a quid pro quo. People help out because they want to help out. As long as whatever information a donation post includes is sincere, however much or little that information is, I think that’s the only parameter that matters. People have different personal criteria for what motivates them to actually donate to a relative stranger on the internet. If someone donating to a person whose post is just a simple paragraph of need with no context for why or what their situation is, if that doesn’t make sense to you? It doesn’t have to. That’s not actually any kind of scam. Someone just wants to say, hey I need help and no, I don’t want to explain why? Sure, a lot of people might not feel inclined to donate but anyone who does, they’re not being scammed. Someone asked for x amount of help, someone else decided, hey I can provide this much help and I’m okay with doing that with no further context needed. The end.

Just wanted to clearly express my opinion there, before proceeding on: for ME, personally, I like a degree of quid pro quo for the help people give me, because that’s something that works for my situation. I don’t LIKE not being able to work as much as I want to, because thing is, I have been fortunate enough to make careers out of work that I actually enjoy. My income over the last ten years has almost completely stemmed from acting, writing and graphic design, all things I enjoy. LOL I rant endlessly about how much I hate capitalism, and its true....but I don’t hate doing things I love. Obviously for the past year I haven’t been able to do any acting jobs cuz of my health conditions, and my writing and graphic design work has been unreliable for the last several months for a variety of reasons. 

The major way my health stuff (and related mental health stuff) has impacted me is not even with actual work, but finding new work. My headaches and chronic pain have lessened how many hours I’m able to be focused on work, but not so much that I can’t do what I need to get done when I have a clear objective and goal to focus on. It’s when that’s done and I have nothing else to work on and haven’t made the money I need yet. When I try to power through several hours a day of headaches/pain in search of new jobs as my lack of results amps up my stress and aggravates my health stuff even further....that’s what really makes days suck. And because of my mobility issues with vertigo and not being able to drive and all that, going out and getting a non-internet based job just flat out isn’t possible for me at the moment.

So I’m really starting to feel hopeful again that there actually IS an end point to all this and it might be soon even...and then I can get back to business as usual and build new client bases same as I did before, even get back to acting (omggggggg I miss it). But until that happens, as long as I still need to ask people for help and financial support, like, PLEASE do not feel like you’re imposing on me by suggesting something I can write in return, especially if you’re someone who’s been donating to me regularly. Or if you follow me in part because you enjoy my writing and my headcanons and fics and such. It’s not a chore, its something to do that I CAN do, that I LIKE doing, that I WANT to do. It actually helps make all of this more bearable, because like I said....writing and graphic design as my sources of income...they don’t feel like work. I ENJOY doing them. They actually get my mind off my issues, they give me a reason to get up in the morning, they make me feel productive, like I’m actually doing something with my life instead of just existing, and going through the motions day by day just to survive. 

So if you make a donation and you can think of something you’d enjoy seeing from me, please don’t hesitate. All I ask is that you understand that I’m not in a place to make guarantees at the moment, but when and where I can devote my time and energy to a direction you’ve pointed me in with your donation, I’m happy to, and hopefully that might result in something sooner rather than later. And eventually, if all goes well, I will get to a point (quite honestly a better place than I’ve been physically AND mentally in years) where I CAN be better about staying true to my intentions.

For now, just a rundown of things I have been writing for people who did make requests (though most of them are friends whose names I recognized and I hunted down and badgered into telling me what they’d like so I could do this, lmao. There were definite GDI WHAT DOES IT TAKE FOR ME TO MAKE YOU TELL ME WHAT I CAN DO FOR YOU convos being had, lolol I’m such a well adjusted person, honestly how do I stand it, science may never know).

Anyway, for anyone interested, the current slate of ‘commissions’ I’ve been working on, just so there’s no need to make a duplicate request:

Lightning Crashes Update - LOL a long awaited update to that beast. Its a 3 POV chapter, Kira, Liam and then Allison, and came out to around 10K. It’s done and just needs a final read through and polish, which I’ll do literally as soon as I manage to finish paying my insurance for the month and get caught up with what I owe my motel. Which means in the next couple of days for sure, if for no other reason then I like....have to make sure to pay those things by then one way or another lmao. But point being, for anyone still invested in that fic or interested in reading more, since its been so long and you’ll probably have to reread the existing chapters to refresh your memory, I think its pretty safe to go ahead and do that whenever, and the new chapter will happen somewhere in the next few days. 

As to the rest of the fic after that - this is one of three fanfics that I’ve always sworn I really want to finish someday no matter what, and that remains true. The clusterfuck TW fandom became for me really hurt my ability to write that story the way I originally wanted to, mostly because I didn’t want my resentment of Stiles to affect how I wrote his necessary part of the plot, and by the time there was enough emotional distance between me and the show/fandom to write it again, like....all this happened, lol. So I do think once my health issues are resolved and I’m settled in an actual permanent place, I’ll FINALLY be able to resume it. There’s like, a couple hundred thousand words worth of unposted story already written there, lmao, its just I outline and then write nonlinearly, so most of all that just doesn’t work without me finally writing the bridge chapters that pull it all together.

Born Under a Bad Sign Update - Same thing pretty much, as this is one of the other Big Three fics I’ve always wanted to finish. Largely because its got a sequel that’s already written in full, lmao. The sequel is my YJ version of Under the Red Hood, but builds on the plotline I always had in mind for BUABS. The sequel was just easier for me to write first because it wasn’t as personal. BUABS doesn’t have as much pre-written as LC, but its not nearly as long either, and it has always been totally outlined and with a lot of dialogue for later chapters pre-written. Anyway, this is what I’d like to post after the LC update. It’s not finished, but its also not as long as the LC one. It’s a Roy chapter, and doesn’t have a time break but while writing it I’ve split it into two parts just for my own purposes. The first is Roy and Ollie confronting Catalina, the second is Roy and Ollie talking about their own shit in light of that. For this one, the first part is written, the second has the dialogue written but the rest needs fleshing out. It wont take that long to finish, its really just a day or at most two days of writing. When that’s done just depends on when I can next devote time to it.

Untitled X-Men One Shot - Someone asked if I’d write something about Scott and Bobby’s friendship and some kind of reunion between them after Scott’s return from the dead. I will of course be ignoring AoX completely, lmao. This one’s mostly done, its like 10K lmao (look those two had a LOT to talk about okay), but the last couple thousand words of that is all just dialogue I needed to get down before I had to focus on other stuff. So everything I need is all there, I just need to return to it to finish fleshing out the last quarter or so of it.

Untitled Dick and Jason One Shot - Someone else asked me to write something with just Dick and Jason interacting, set in the comic book universe. I’m going with a blend of pre-nu52 and a little bit of nu52 for the setting, pretty much ignoring Rebirth etc, because a) I think the Rebirth reboot mostly sucked and b) I really don’t know much about post Rebirth continuity cuz I’ve read so little of it cuz what I have read I think mostly sucks. This one is basically Dick and Jason finally airing out their shit and all the things I’ve long wanted them to say to each other and know about each other, so they can try and build an actual functioning relationship as brothers. Its got all the dialogue written, but not much else. The dialogue’s really the only framework I need to build a one-shot, so it won’t be hard to write around it, its again just more about when and where I get the time to do that. It will be Jason POV, as in canon its usually Dick reaching out (to whatever degree) and Jason not trusting his sincerity. So the angle I’m going with is this one shot’s about Jason realizing he doesn’t know his brother as well as he thought, and that if he’s always trying to get the family to accept he’s not the same person he was before, like....the same can be true for Dick. Neither of them are the people they were back then, so the reasons they weren’t close aren’t actually reasons they can’t be close now. And what Jason thinks are Dick’s issue with him might not actually be what Dick actually has a problem with. 

Original Superhero Novella - This is likely the last of these things to be finished as its the longest and thus more on the backburner, like just writing 1 or 2K at a time on it. This one’s the request of a friend who knows enough about my original superhero universe (I call it the Ellis Eighteen universe) to know who she wanted to read about specifically. Which - not surprisingly, given that Batfamily is one of our shared fandoms - is my version of a Batfamily. Only not really, because lol I don’t like being derivative or writing analogs of existing characters aka I must be the specialest snowflake ever. So its more like I was like ugh I love the Batfamily but hate how rarely DC lets them like, GET ALONG, oh hey, I’m gonna shove all my resentment from that into making up my own dysfunctional blended family of superheroes who actually love each other even if they’re bad at saying so. Plus superpowers.

So their concept is there’s a C-List supervillain named Murphy, as in Murphy’s Law. He has low grade probability powers. Basically he makes it so anything that can go wrong will go wrong in a designated area. He doesn’t have any control over how that manifests, but he’s great for diversions, so he gets hired for a heist by some big name supervillains to just create mayhem while they do the actual work elsewhere. Except Murphy discovers the corporation they’re stealing from donates a lot to children’s charities and is heavily involved with ‘supporting’ the foster care system...as a means to seek out superpowered children who end up in the system, and exploit them for their powers. And while looking for the best place/way to make a diversion, Murphy stumbles across evidence of this, as well as four boys on site in advance of them being sent to a home specially intended to raise the boys to feel indebted to their benefactors and eager to do whatever they want them to.

Which doesn’t work for Murphy at all, because he’s not so much a bad guy as someone who ended up a criminal due to circumstances and desperation and from there just never found a reason to stop. This though, he’s not okay looking the other way, so he says screw this company and screw the guys who hired me, and he breaks out the boys and they go on the run, keeping anyone from getting their hands on them and moving from place to place while he tries to provide as much stability as he can, let them grow up and decide for themselves what they want to be.

Eventually though, the two oldest, Misfire and Crossfire (I call them the Fire brothers because even though they’re all biologically unrelated, they each have powers that lend themselves to picking the codenames Misfire, Crossfire, Ceasefire and Backfire). So anyway, after a couple years of this, Misfire and Crossfire end up sneaking out to be vigilantes. And Murphy catches them of course and is like wtf are you thinking, do you know how dangerous that is? What if you get hurt? What if they (asshole corporation) find you?

Only it turns out, they just wanted to be like their dad. Which Murphy doesn’t really know what to do with, cuz he never talks about his past with the boys. Because he’s ashamed of it, doesn’t want them to think of him as a villain. Which they don’t of course. He’s the one who rescued them, who gave up whatever his life was before to make it all about protecting them and always doing what was best for them. To the boys, Murphy’s always been their personal hero, so they kind of took it for granted....that’s what he was. Murphy was never a big name player, and they’ve always assumed that he was just some masked hero or vigilante who retired when he took them in so his old enemies wouldn’t come after them too.

So basically its a found/adopted family where the boys grow up to be heroes, thanks to the values and role model their father provided without ever having a clue how they really saw him, due to his own insecurities. And then it backdoors into Murphy eventually becoming a hero as well as its the only way he knows to keep making sure he’s there to look out for them, as well as like....he’s inspired by his kids, who in turn were inspired by him. He wants to be the man they see him as, live up to that image of him, not realizing that like, he always already was that man. That image of him is based on his actions, the way he raised them. So in reality, its not even that he’s inspired to heroism by the example his kids set, its more a gradual embrace of the role he’d always played for as long as they knew him, no matter how he personally had seen it (and himself).

And because I’m me, they end up making it the family business, with the older two boys and their dad working together to expose and topple companies engaged in exploitative practices, while the younger two ignore all orders to stay home and always stow away to make sure they’re part of the action. Like.....its the Batfamily with superpowers meets Leverage, if the Robins came first and Bruce only became Batman to be their partner and have their backs. And also he used to be a crook which is still way better than a billionaire. So, that’s that on that.

So that’s the slowest of the current slate, its at about 18K of a projected 30K, with this particular story being set after Murphy and the two oldest are already established as vigilantes. Murphy’s in his forties, Misfire’s 21, Crossfire’s 18, Ceasefire’s 16 and Backfire’s 14.

I’m open to writing pretty much anything I’ve ever talked about fandom wise, and that you know is something I’m familiar with. If for whatever reason a request is something I’m not open to writing or I’m not familiar enough with to write, I’ll just make a post about it and you can hop on anon and either clarify or ask for something else. And its okay to ask on anon ahead of time if I’d be open to something.

Anyway, on that note, I’m all done here, thanks again for everything!!!

[the-only-villain-here-is-me]

A Kiss to Make It Better

Fandom: Sherlock

Pairing: John x Reader

Warning: violence, mentions of blood, needles

Prompt: Would you mind writing a John Watson imagine where he stitches up Y/N cuts after she got into a fight, please?!?

Requested by: Anon

Author: @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away, Beth

Authors note: This is my first requested fic so any feedback would be super appreciated!!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Being best friends with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson definitely had its perks. You had been friends ever since you started living in 221 C Baker Street. You got the flat dirt cheap partly because of Sherlocks antics which the landlady’s has warned you about. Mostly it was because Sherlocks nemesis once broke in and used the room for a twisted game. You didn’t mind thought, housing was hard to find in London, especially with your budget. Best of all living in 221 C was what caused you to meet John and Sherlock.

At first you had a feeling Sherlock resented you, as he did most changes. But John, on that first day, had given you a warm, apologetic smile and you knew living with John Watson and Sherlock Holmes would be alright.

Now you weren’t sure what you would do with out the thrill of adventure you got chasing criminals with the two of them. Chasing as in solving clues and figuring out motives, not running. You could do without all the running. “Faster (y/n), we’re losing them” John called from in front you.

Sherlock had figured out where a notorious criminal had been hiding. He must have been expecting you and he took off out a window into an alley. Which meant you had to follow on foot. Really you should do more cardio, but you felt it wouldn’t matter how fit you were, Sherlock and John had a head start on this running business. You were pulled from you thoughts when you heard Sherlock curse up ahead of you. The alley lead off into a street and another alley opened up off to the side. He raised his hands and pressed them gently to his temple. You knew he was mentally trying to track which way the crook likely would have headed.

You slowed down, then stopped a few feet from Sherlock and John and put your hands on your knees, panting the whole time. You didn’t even have time to catch your breath when you felt yourself get slammed into the wall. You felt like you couldn’t think or breathe. You felt someone pull you against their chest. There was something in the corner of your eye, but your brain couldn’t register it.you were suddenly aware the someone was talking. “Stand down, we don’t want anyone to end up with a bullet in their head, now do we”

No one moved. Sherlocks face was passive, giving nothing away, but you saw his hands shaking. Johns face showed a mix of anger and fear. You took in a deep breath and felt all your emotions catch up with you. Panic, pain, fear and anger. This criminal would not use you to get away. You brought your foot behind his and slammed your toes into the back of his knee. He stumbled and his gun was no longer pointed at you.

He turned to face you, slamming your shoulders against the wall. You brought your fist up and smashed it into his face. He stumbled back and you hit him again. Sherlock grabbed his arms and pulled them into handcuffs. John moves quickly beside you. “Wow, I, I mean, when you” he struggled to get the words out. He stopped and grinned at you. “You were amazing.”

Lestrade had arrived to arrest the criminal. Officers had questioned Sherlock, John and you. As you got in a taxi to leave John pointed at your hand. It was cut open and bleeding. He tried to insist you went to the hospital but you couldn’t feel it hurt and you wanted to go home. “It’s fine, I’ll put a bandage on at the flat.”

It was not fine. The cut had already bleed through two bandages and now that there wasn’t adrenaline coursing though you veins you could definitely feel it. You debated just leaving it and being spared Johns “I told you so” look but it hurt to much. You made your way into 221 B. Sherlock was typing on a computer. “Johns upstairs in his room, bring the black bag on the kitchen counter.” Sherlock told you with out looking up.

As you pushed the door open John stood up and smiled at you. His smile turned to a grimace as he looked down at your hand. You sighed “I know I know you...” but John cut you off as he gently held your cut up hand. He looked at the bag in your hands and smiled “You want me to fix it?” He grabbed the bag and pulled out a first aid kit, pain medication, and a small suture kit.

You sat down on his bed and he sat beside you, his gloved hand holding yours. “Don’t look alright, I promise to be careful” he told you gently. You focused on his face, which was staring intently at your hand, his tongue peeking out of his mouth. You laughed and then felt the needle prick your skin. You jumped and grabbed Johns arm. “It’s alright your doing amazing” he whispered, trying to calm you down. He continued to stitch your hand and you squeezed his arm anytime it started to hurt. When it was finally done John smiles at you. You grinned at him. “Kiss it better?” you asked, bringing your hand to his mouth. He pressed his lips against your hand. “And for being such a good patient, how about a real kiss” he asked, blushing slightly. You pressed your lips against his. Yep, living with John Watson would be quite alright.

#gif imagine #imagine #john watson #sherlock holmes #john watson x y/n #john watson x you #john watson imagine #john watson x reader #john watson fanfic #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfic #sherlock #john #bbc sherlock #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: needles

[lightchildofthespring]

Thank you for tagging me, @florencetheflowerfairy

Now, I present my list of ten favorite characters from ten different fandoms:

Hyuuga Hinata (Naruto/Naruto Shippuuden): For over 10 years, Hinata has been a dear character to me. I indentified with her struggles with anxiety and self-deprecation and admired how she grew through the story to the point where she’s respected as a ninja and acknowledged by her family and peers. Hinata develops a strength that is unlike the typical “strong female character” trope. She doesn’t have to shout to be heard, she doesn’t have to punch people or destroy things to be taken seriously. There’s a quiet dignity to her that brings a lot of weight to her words when she speaks. Hinata’s speeches are almost always (dare I say always?) meaningful. She knows how to motivate people and recognize value in them even when they can’t see it themselves. She’s wise, kind, hugely empathetic and might be one of the most emotionally intelligent characters in the series. I also fell in love with her relationship with Naruto. As a self-loathing child who nobody believed in, Hinata saw a lot of herself in the little boy who was shunned by the entire village. And by seeing how he, although faced with many difficulties and failing many times, kept on doing his best and refusing to give up, Hinata felt encouraged to do her best herself and become someone she could be proud of. What began with admiration evolved to love and Hinata became the person to encourage and protect Naruto. I don’t think I was ever as happy to see a couple I shipped become canon as I was with these two. They’re characters who bring the best in each other and respect each other deeply. Relationship goals right here!

Sawada Tsunayoshi (Katekyo Hitman Reborn): what I really liked about Tsuna was how realistic he felt to me. He didn’t act like the typical shonen hero and never really embraced the Mafia Boss destiny people tried to shove him in. Tsuna was a loser in academics and sports who had no friends and no faith in himself in the beginning of the story. However, he evolves in the story and becomes someone who is more confident in himself and earns the trust and respect of other people. All that without actually changing his core personality. Tsuna never stops being a scared-cat or an anxious guy, but he learned that he shouldn’t let those things stop him from fighting to protect the people he cared about. Another thing that I love about Tsuna is that he hates to fight, no matter how strong he gets. Strength for him is merely a means to protect people when needed, not something to use carelessly or to brag about. He’s a sweet kid and I love him.

Todoroki Shouto (Boku no hero academia): his past might be one of the saddest in the manga. His mother was forced into an arranged married with his father, number two hero and abusive jerk. Todoroki was trained since early age to be a great hero but didn’t feel loved. Events that I shouldn’t spoil happen and he resents deeply his father and part of his ability (he has powers of ice, from his mom, and fire, from his father), refusing to use the same power that the man he loathes has. But then, he’s told by someone who would become a dear friend that that power was his and that he shouldn’t hate a part of himself. Todoroki has a beautiful growth in the series and slowly comes to terms with himself as a whole.

Mabel Pines (Gravity Falls): Mabel is an extrovert who embraces life with high levels of enthusiasm. I find it nearly impossible not to fall in love with her. She loves her family and values her heart more than her brain when it comes to make decisions (a trait that saved the day many times). Mabel is incredibly creative and artistic and is also someone who thinks outside the box, coming up with surprising solutions for problems. She had moments of self-centeredness but deeply cares about her family and friends. I’d say nobody in the show has a heart as big as hers.

Asuka Langley Soryu (Neon Genesis Evangelion): my child! She had a lot of hurt, trauma and insecurities but tried really hard to hide them away and present herself as a strong and arrogant person who needed nobody. Asuka in reality wanted to feel like she belonged and wished to be accepted, and believed that being the best pilot would make her achieve those things. In her hurry to grow up, she messes up, makes many mistakes and has to learn to take other people into consideration and to look into herself to understand her struggles. She might be one of the most complex characters I’ve ever seen and it’s a delight to analyze her.

Garnet (Steven Universe): easily the coolest character in the show. Garnet has a unique sense of humor, strength of character, courage, protectiveness and self-confidence. What to expect from someone who is the representation of a relationship? Someone literally made of love? She acts as the leader of the Crystal Gems ever since Rose’s departure and does her best to keep the team together and maintain the balance. Her strong front sometimes hides fears and fragility that we’re only shown sporadically, which adds to her complexity.

Kagura (Gintama): you can look anywhere but it won’t be easy to find a heroine like Kagura. All characters in Gintama are great, especially the women, but Kagura has a special flavor. She’s a teenager from the Yato clan, said to be the strongest species in the universe. She left her home planet behind after sad family-related things happened and made a new life on Earth. Kagura found a new family in the Yorozuya, having Shinpachi as an older brother figure and Gintoki as a father figure. She’s brash, is not afraid to say what she wants, sometimes can be inconsiderate and other times she’s the sweetest child in the world. The bonds that Kagura forms on Earth (not only with the Yorozuya, but also many different characters. My favorites are the sisterly bond with Otae and the best friend bond with Princess Soyo) give her safety and confidence to forge her own identity, not letting her Yato blood dictate her fate. It’s also thanks to the growth she had on Earth that she can later confront her father and older brother, bringing closure to her family’s conflict. Kagura is absolutely fantastic and I adore her with my whole heart.

Tenjou Utena (Revolutionary Girl Utena): RGU is the kind of story where all the characters are well-written and complex. Therefore, it’s incredibly hard to pick a favorite. In the end, I decided to go with Utena. She’s a brave and heroic person who wants to live nobly, like a prince. However, her chivalric desires made her unable to recognize that her behavior was at times patronizing. She wanted to help Anthy but for most of the series failed to understand the girl’s real situation. Utena only comes to understand and help Anthy when she stops seeing the girl as someone who needed rescue but as her own person, with virtues and flaws. Despite her shortcomings, Utena was able to extend her hand to Anthy and bring revolution to the oppressed girl’s world, enabling the former rose bride to break free from her brother and the abusive cycle developed by him. The story of Utena and Anthy is remarkably beautiful, showing how both of them were fundamental to each other.

Amy Pond (Doctor Who): my favorite companion! Amy was visited by the Doctor as a young child and asked him to take her away from the village where she was the only Scottish girl and her aunt left her alone for several hours during the night. The Doctor took too long to return (12 years!), and Amy grew up with nobody believing her stories and thinking that she was crazy. The harshness of her childhood made her develop abandonment issues, to the point where she sabotaged her relationships. Most of her growth comes from Amy learning to trust people and to be more open with her emotions and insecurities. Also, she learned that she deserved the love and dedication people gave her, especially Rory’s, her boyfriend and then husband (who also becomes a companion and travels in the tardis).

Izumi Koushiro (Digimon Adventure/Digimon Adventure 02): my favorite fictional character, without a doubt. In those two shows, Koushiro was written beautifully, allowing his depth to be perceived in countless glimpses and episodes focused on him, especially the ones written by Hiro Masaki (nobody will ever write Koushiro as well as this person! He’s without a doubt the author who better understands the character). The boy is shy and awkward around people but enthusiastic about learning new things. For long, Koushiro attempted to evade his problems by throwing himself in the search of knowledge, which caused most of his insecurities to remain unresolved until he talked to his parents about his adoption. Koushiro’s sense of inferiority made him polite to an extreme and only capable of seeing value in himself when he could be of help to others. Because of that, he demanded too much of himself at times, neglecting his own well being for the sake of others. His character is formidably complex and I believe I’ll never get tired of writing for him or reading about him.

 Bonus:

Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist): Ed was a joy to see. He was easily the funniest character but also could shift to dramatic and heavy moments when necessary. He went to great lengths for his family and carried immense guilt for what happened to his brother. Nevertheless, he became determined to always move forward. Ed is constantly morally questioned through the story until he comes to his own answers. It’s a beautiful journey to watch.

Princess Bubblegum (Adventure Time): the morally ambiguous statist! Bubblegum ‘s first impression is of an affable leader who loves her people but the show wastes no time in showing how many layers she actually has. She has a pragmatic and scientific mind and sometimes fails to be empathetic and to treat other people as equals. Nevertheless, she does have good intentions and honestly believes that what she does is for the greater good. Bubblegum is truly a fascinating character!

Hinata Shouyou (Haikyuu): he’s a child that puts all of his energy into things. What’s interesting about Hinata is that he can be light-hearted and enthusiastic most of the time and then, suddenly, become super focused and serious during a volleyball game, to the point where his intensity can be a bit (a lot) scary. He’s also a sincere person who is not afraid to praise people and let them know how great he thinks they are, while at the same time being competitive with the people he admires.

I’ll tag @qwertyshuman, @thefatedmeeting, @fujitsubos, @sirelo, @skuag and @gossipchii, if you feel like doing it. Also, whoever else wants to. :)

#tag game

[keneerike]

Control Your Emotions and Control Your Reality: 5 Keys To Getting It Done

I haven't posted since June. Plenty of life updates afoot since then; might share those on the site at a later date.

I'm back with a piece that should hit home for everyone.

Our minds control our reality. Everything we do is a result of how we think.

It's the reason we have so many bad drivers: A moving car is just an extension of the mind operating it. 

The guy that tailgates, weaves in-and-out of lanes in heavy traffic, slams on the brakes when he had ample time to slow down; same dude that's quick to anger, focused on immediate gratification instead of long-term wins, and treats discipline like a four-letter word.

Those choices are all born of the same short-term, lack-of-self-control-fueled thinking.

With experience, you (hopefully) gain wisdom and realize that the risk of an accident or moving violation isn't worth the chance to shave a few seconds of your trip. Run-ins with the law, days wasted in court, spikes in insurance premiums....those get old, fast.

It's why young men draw the highest insurance premiums. Actuaries know that segment of society is most likely to engage in risky behaviors that cost money. Pressure to fit in with peers, uncertainty about identity, brains not-yet-fully-formed, few entanglements and responsibilities; recipes for volatility.

That 18-34-Year-Old demographic is the most prized target market in advertising for similar reason. Those are the folks most likely to fall for the "What-You-Buy-Determines-Who-You-Are" Myth.  A lack of life experience and a large portion of one's day spent buried in media create ideal consumers.

Yes, the brand of deodorant you buy defines who you are. More than what you actually produce for yourself and others.

Searching for something to instill meaning in life, we pull out our wallets or latch on to theater around us. Companies know they'll never go broke providing easy answers for difficult questions, even if those purported solutions fall flat in the long run.

We see that in civic debate, where Identity politics have taken over American governance.

We see it in sports, with die-hard fans. People who wrap themselves in sports fandom, often to drown out the deafening silence in their lives. Their team's divisional record is a direct reflection of their worth as a person, so any perceived attack on their team is met with indignation; One cross word from a rival fan is all it takes to get that ball rolling.

The post-game scene outside your favorite stadium.

Which brings us back to the theme of this post: managing your emotions so you can maintain peace of mind.

Five Tips for Controlling Your Thoughts (and emotions):

1) Visualize the steps you need to reach your ideal outcome.

2) Abstain from thoughts and images that conflict with your goals.

3) Take physical action to bring your goals to pass.

4) Put events in proper context.

5) Decide ahead of time how you'll respond when life takes a turn.

1) Visualize the steps you need to reach your ideal outcome.

Your thoughts dictate your emotions; your emotions dictate your actions.

Paint a picture of the ideal outcome and work backwards. What kind of work do you need to put in to get there? Visualize yourself going through the paces. Imagine yourself as a calm, level-headed decision-maker during times of uncertainty and you'll begin to act that way.

Use your cognitive abilities to support your desires, not thwart them. Visualize what it feels like and looks like to attain your ideal outcome. Your muscle memory will follow suit. You get out what you put in. Fill your (mental) tank with low-grade fuel and you'll sputter along, struggling to make full use of your abilities and enjoy your daily experience.

2) Abstain from thoughts and images that conflict with your goals.  

Tune in to Food Network and you get hungry: No surprise there. The sights and sounds of cakes and pastas evoke memories of past good times with a fork and spoon. You get to thinking about replicating that enjoyment and next thing you know, you're wrist-deep in that pie you were saving for Thanksgiving.

Most of us have enough sense to stay away from cooking shows when we're trying to slim down, yet we forget the persuasive impact of the sights and sounds we subject ourselves to every minute of the day.

When you focus on what you don't want, your mind brings that to pass. God designed our brains to manifest the images and thoughts we meditate on.

The surest way to miss a shot or drop a pass when you're in a big game is to continue imagining what it will be like to miss a shot or drop a pass when you're in a big game.

3) Take physical action to bring your goals to pass.

Talk is cheap. You know that.

Itching to start a business? Want to drop a few pounds? Reading day-after-day of motivational articles will only take you so far. At some point, you've got to throw on some sneakers and get to work.

Train your brain to handle inevitable challenges by exposing yourself to them ahead of time. Dedicated practice of the skills you need in trying times arms your mind with evidence that you can handle what comes your way. You get accustomed to the difficulties of certain activities and fear and worry fade away.

4) Put events in proper context.

Restaurant got your pizza order wrong? Cut off in traffic? Friend offered an opinion you disagree with?

Reasons to be angry? Sure. But your level of outrage and subsequent response should be appropriate.

Running the other guy off the road or ending a friendship because you have divergent political views? Too extreme.

Life goes on, even when people around you don't hold up their end of the bargain.  

5) Decide ahead of time how you'll respond when life takes a turn.

You choose your level of outrage. You choose your internal and external response to what crosses your path. When things don't go according to plan, you can take it in stride, minimizing the emotional damage, or fly off the handle.

Like any skill, it takes practice.

To be clear, I'm not pushing the passive-aggressive, conflict-avoidance approach for problem solving.

That line of thinking is rooted in insecurity and a fear that one doesn't deserve---or lacks the ability to obtain---what one desires. Confident people who know what they want should go after it and not kid themselves about resolving problems that bother them.

Being comfortable with the uncomfortable is an underrated asset. If your first inclination when faced with conflict is to flee, put the work in and change that. 

The best things in life are free, but the brave get first crack at the pickings.

When others screw up, seek recompense where appropriate. Just don't let it torpedo your entire day.

Resentment, harboring grudges, plotting revenge: these all tie up cognitive resources that could be employed elsewhere. Not only do you keep replaying the offending event in your head, subjecting yourself to repeated emotional trauma, you waste time that could have been spent bettering your life. It's like re-watching a movie you found torturous the first time around. Give it the proper attention and move on. Odds are the offending party isn't thinking about it, so the only one significantly-impacted by the event is you. You're better off getting it out of your mind as quickly as possible.

Avoid counterfactual thinking as well. Imagining what could have been had everything gone according to plan will drive you insane.

Ever played fantasy sports or gambled? You know the pain of the choice (not) taken. 

Managing your expectations of others helps here, too. Like a good defensive driver, assume others will drop the ball and disappointment is less likely to sneak up on you. And definitely don't hold others to higher standards than you hold yourself;that just makes you a hypocrite. 

Great leaders understand that intuitively.

You've got more control over what transpires in your life than you give yourself credit for. 

I'll give you a personal example to drive the point of emotion control home:

I spent some time in the hospital earlier this year. Shared some details here: 

https://soundcloud.com/user-31492767/kene-tells-clot-story-testimony-to-church-feb-2018

When I got out of the hospital, everyone had an opinion on what I needed to do next and how worried I should be about my prognosis.

Any talk about how unstable my condition was or the physical dangers looming in recovery---I shut it down. Started that while I was in the hospital, with visitors who wanted to talk about other people they knew who succumbed to the episode or anxieties about my vulnerability. I only wanted to hear words that facilitated healing, not breathed life into fears.

I wasn't listening to anything that allowed doubt to creep into my mind; I was only planting seeds that would push me towards a full recovery.

In addition to maintaining a running dialogue with medical specialists, I searched for---and found---present time and biblical examples of people who experienced healing. Case studies are useful for establishing precedent and demonstrating value. Great for inspiration and instructional knowledge, too.

As if this whole ordeal was preordained, I found a number of passages tackling the exact same infirmity I was contending with:

Matthew 9:20-22:

"And, behold, a woman, which was diseased with an issue of blood twelve years, came behind him, and touched the hem of his garment:

For she said within herself, “If I may but touch his garment, I shall be whole.”

But Jesus turned him about, and when he saw her, he said, “Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole.” And the woman was made whole from that hour."

Part of my recovery protocol entailed months of daily cold showers: Every day, without compromise.

Each time I headed for the shower, a skirmish erupted in my mind: How was I going to handle today's ice bath? I could choose to think about the discomfort of ice-cold water hitting my skin, which would inspire dread every time I headed for the shower, or focus on the regenerative effects to be had through consistent participation.

Ice baths are great for pain relief and muscle management.

And really, after a initial five-second jolt of "cold", your body adjusts quickly to the temperature. Cold baths aren't nearly as traumatic as you've been led to believe and they get easier the more you do them.

The decision was made from the get-go, so I wouldn't waffle when the time arrived.

I knew these ice showers needed to be done and never allowed myself to consider skipping them. When you accept that something needs to be done and focus on the benefits of completing the task, you realize that focusing on the not-so-enjoyable parts is counter-productive. You've got to do it anyway, so why not place yourself in a state of mind most conducive to getting it done and not dreading the action going forward?

That's the formula for beating procrastination in all its forms, whether its getting your homework done or doing the dishes.

Winners learn how to hurdle obstacles that losers shy away from. Controlling your thoughts is the first step for accomplishing that.

Your weekly internment camp or the road to a fulfilling marriage and a shape others will envy: It's all about how you look at it.

Visualizing worst case scenarios is a poor way to navigate life. That line of negative thinking is the same thought process behind the white-hot fear of public speaking.

Remember that next time you're in a jam.

Too many Christians respond to uncertainty like unbelievers, letting their emotions run wild when trouble rears. Only after self-inducing complete despair do they ask God---in a passive way, no less---to restore peace and solve their problems..

"Stress" wasn't a team member I needed for my recovery journey, so reining in my thoughts and emotions was paramount. If you stop imagining panic-inducing outcomes, you stop panicking. I refused to let my heart be troubled, kept cool, acted in faith, and got every result I was looking for---and then some.

God is great.

When the unexpected happens, your first response dictates the outcome. You dwell on all that could go wrong and that self-fulfilling prophecy comes to pass.

You can throw up your hands and bemoan the world around you or get to work sculpting your environment to your tastes; it's all in your hands.

A steady hand---and mind--- at the wheel will carry you far.

All of this sound crazy? You think the vagaries of life mean your mental state needs to fluctuate to mirror anything that comes your way?

That's because we're so accustomed to taking our normative cues from the people around us---many of whom base their actions on the whims of what's popular at the moment---instead of a more grounded authority.

Even the tallest tree needs solid roots---the base we cannot see---to withstand the elements.

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